Happy Hour
by gostlcards
Summary: Set pre-2x21, 2x22, tho i'm not sure when; Emma and David spend some time together after work, getting to know each other better. One-shot, mentions of Graham.


This will have taken place sometime before the events of 2x21 & 2x20; partly an older idea I had started a couple of months ago, part a bribe for blueink3 that I instigated, cause I need more Moats and Boats and Waterfalls :) a just for fun one-shot. hope everyone enjoys :)

* * *

The first time it happens, nothing seems unusual about it. It is a quiet Wednesday night in the town, the feud between the families having died down to a dull throb, Regina keeping to herself enough for lives to continue as normal. Or as normal could be, with a town filled with magic and fairytale characters.

Mary was busy grading papers. She had since returned to her job as a teacher at the school, needing something to occupy her time for when Emma and David were keeping guard over the town, and Henry was at school. Henry was with his father for the week, staying with him across town, which left the two law enforcers to their own devices. It had been Emma who had suggested something other than Granny's for dinner, citing a bar across town which she had heard served a mean pulled pork sandwich. When they arrived a little after six, it looked like a few of the people from the cannery had gotten there for a happy hour, pitchers of beer being passed around over laughs and darts. She and David barely have a minute to themselves as they sit before a voice cuts through the air.

"David?"

Both look up from the table, and Emma is curious to see that it's Sean Herman walking toward them, slowly at first but quicker as he nears them. Any raucous feeling seems to have been left with his co-workers, who are still in their drinks. He is staring at her deputy, who as she looks over, seems shaken as he rises.

"Thomas?"

_Ah. Yes,_ she thinks to herself. She recognizes him as Ashley's deadbeat boyfriend. And if Ashley is Cinderella, as Henry believed, and he's with her, it means he's a prince. Of course they knew each other.

As they embrace tightly, she sits in silent awkwardness, listening to them exchange pleasantries. The waitress comes while they chat, much to her relief and she orders a couple of beers to start them off; she can feel Thomas's gaze flitting over to her every so often, curiosity in his glances, and she contemplates downing both of the brews as the waitress delivers them. It is only when David steps back and to the side, hands on his hips as he nods to her, a broad, proud smile to his face.

"Forgive me, its been a long time since we've seen each other. Emma, this is Thomas. Thomas...Emma."

Thomas face relaxes a little, recognition sparking in more ways than one. He tries to force a full smile, but it seems also a bit sad. "Ah yes, Emma Swan. The savior of our city. And of my wife, as I was...acting like a complete ass."

Embarrassment overtakes her. "It was nothing, Mr. Herman, it really..."

"Please, call me Thomas." He takes her hand and kisses it with all the customs of a high-born gentleman, and she doesn't miss the eye roll David sends his way, nor the wink that Thomas sends right back. As they say their goodbyes with the promises of a dinner to catch up later with Mary Margaret and Thomas heads back to his coworkers, David sits down next to her with a shake of his head.

"Always tradition with that one." He offers as a way of explanation. He thanks her for the drink and sips at it as he watches the man start to joke with a few of the others who work at the cannery, many of which have now turned to look at the pair. David sighs.

"What? What is it?"

"It's nothing, really." He leans forward, forearms on the table. "I just didn't know if he was here for certain; there was a bit of unpleasantness before the curse was cast, and I wasn't sure..." He shakes his head, fighting away the memory. "We haven't gone to see Ella yet."

"Ella?"

He blinks before a look of understanding blooms on his face, realizing his mistake. "Ashley, I suppose."

"Oh right." She chuckles with a shake of her head. "_Cinder_ella..."

"Just Ella." He corrects, almost sharply, resting his elbow on the table. "The cinder part was a cruel nickname given to her by her family."

Weirdly enough, Emma feels embarrassed and a little chastised. "Oh. Right. Sorry..."

He seems to recognize the flush and softens, resting a hesitant hand on her forearm in an apologetic gesture. When he feels her tense beneath it, he pulls back. She wants to tell him it's alright, but she's not quite sure how, so she stays silent, and he continues. "No, it's...it's alright. We were just very good friends with them, and it was hard for her. The movies don't quite play that part out..."

"The one with Drew Barrymore did. It was much better than the Disney version."

She can tell by his furrowed brow he has no idea what she's saying. Right. The coma thing. And the whole, magic community, sheltered, thing. She plows on, the silence making her jittery. "So why haven't you?"

"Haven't what?"

"Gone to see them."

"Been a bit preoccupied as of late." He looks at her sideways. "I'll mention it to Mary. I'm sure she'd love to see Ella."

"And the baby probably."

His expression falters for a moment, but he recovers quickly enough, and she realizes that maybe there's another reason for them not having visited their friends. A child with a tuft of blonde hair and big blue eyes, the little girl infant that Snow and Charming never got to have. The thought unnerves her and she decides to change the subject.

"So you and Mary were friends with them? I didn't know Snow White and Ella were BFF's..."

He nods earnestly. "Very close. When you are regents in your land, there are certain contingencies you must plan for, just in case. As both Snow and I were very involved in the defense of the land...and Regina's explicit threats against us...we had to have a plan for what you would do if something were to happen to us. As they were some of our closest friends and allies, and closest to our own realm..."

"Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me that I would've been adopted by another Disney princess and her Prince Charming?"

"Thomas." He corrects with a grin. "I'm the only Charming around."

"Oh, yeah, that I can see." She laughs as she brushes her blonde hair away from her face. "Aunt Ella and Thomas. Just when you think it can't get any more strange..."

"David, come over and toss a few!" Sean's voice cuts across the bar, a wide grin splitting his face. David glances over at the group, and she hides a grin at the school boy interest obviously piqued on his face. He looks back at her, as if asking for permission. It's hard, but she shakes her head, the dull ache in her chest forming at the thought of it.

"Uh, no...I'm not...I'm not a dart person. You can go though, I'll be okay."

"You don't like darts?"

"I'm not good at darts." She quickly corrects. "I had...someone, try to teach me once but..." She trails off. "I don't really feel like it."

The way he is looking at her is almost an examination, and she ruffles beneath the scrutiny. "You can go, if you want. I can hang out over here for a bit. If I get bored, I'll head over."

He throws a look at group and the look of longing almost makes her want to push him from the chair to go over and make new friends, but after a few moments, the look passes and his expression softens into a one of contentment. He smiles over at her, shaking his head. "Nah. Maybe next time. I'm not really in the mood for darts either."

She doesn't understand it, this loopy, warm feeling that overcomes her, and she finds herself letting her head drop as she stares at the table instead of at him. He squeezes her arm for a split second, this time assuredly, just to make sure that she understands, before motioning for the waitress to come over so they can place their order. She relaxes at the gesture.

A nice, chill night out, just the two of them. She looks up over at him as he relays his order to the server before looking at her expectantly. She smiles back.

"I'll have whatever he's having."

And for some reason, he beams.

* * *

When the next Wednesday rolls around, Mary Margaret excuses herself when Emma tries to make plans for supper that night, citing again the need to go over the weekly spelling test and some lesson plans that she's neglected due to what's been happening around town. Henry begs off as well, claiming that he needs his grandmother's help to get through some English homework; when Emma offers to help instead, Mary cuts in and insists that no, her help won't create an unfair advantage, and that Emma and David should just go to dinner by themselves.

This time, she sees a glance shared between the two, brief but significant, so as she turns to put on her coat, she eyes her son but says nothing further. When David comes down the stairs, ready for the midafternoon shift, she tosses him the keys to the cruiser and they are on their merry way. When he suggests the bar once more for an after shift meal, citing that Mary and Henry will be busy, she agrees without complaint.

This time, they choose a high top that is close to where the cannery guys are having their happy hour. It's her idea; this past week has been nuts, a little more excitement than she would've liked, and so she knows David hasn't gotten to see anyone else. While he's more than happy being with his family all the time, she cannot imagine that he wouldn't appreciate seeing old familiar faces. The way his face lights up when a few come over to greet him-Thomas, a rugged man who introduces himself as 'Flynn' and an 'Al'-makes the entire thing all okay.

"You gonna play tonight?" Thomas asks, nudging her elbow just a bit with a grin. She puts on a smile, pretending like the presumed familiarity with her didn't bug her just a bit. She shrugs, eyeing the three darts he's rolling over in his fingers.

"Only if David will be my partner."

The deputy's face lights up at the suggestion as her words pull his attention from his discussion with the guy Emma is pretty sure is the Prince of Agrabah, which is weird enough to think of by itself. But instead of the awkward hesitance she expected to come with such eagerness, like what she has felt from the gesture Thomas had committed just seconds before, she feels a sense of accomplishment as he looks at her, as if she's just given him a wonderful gift on Christmas.

"Oh ho, don't get too excited." She warns, pushing herself from her bar stool. "I _suck_ at darts."

She is not joking, he finds, as he insists she starts off. Two of her darts embed themselves in the drywall on either side of the corked boards, which to his surprise, seems to actually make her happy ("Did you see that? They **_stuck_**!"). The other one ends up on the ground, the plastic feather lying feet from it.

Oh boy. He offers to help her with her throw, but she declines politely, and David doesn't press. She thinks that she should, that he'd like it if she let him teach her something, but all she can think of when she thinks of that is the smell of scotch, and pine, and bristly beard hairs at the back of her neck; a soft, Irish brogue in her ear. She shakes her head at the thought, banishing the former Sheriff from her mind and hurries back to their table before anything more is said.

She sits down to sip at her drink and have some wings as he collects the darts and settles in near Flynn. She watches him, happy to see him so relaxed and obviously enjoying himself. She is studying him so much that she doesn't hear the wayward Prince Thomas join her.

"Awful convenient that Mary and Henry are busy again on our happy hour night." Thomas comments softly, arms crossed as he leans back next to her. Her gaze flits over to where David is preparing his shot at the board, and she fiddles with her set of darts. The memory of the look shared between her son and mother comes back to her, and she half laughs as she glances sideways at the man who would've been her godfather.

"Are you trying to insinuate that she's making up work to do?"

"No," Thomas chuckles, shaking his head. "No, she's definitely working. But don't you think its...interesting, that it falls like that every night, and on our dart night?" He winks at her. "I'm saying I wouldn't be surprised if she concocted this so that you two got to know each other a little better."

Emma shakes her head. "Nah, I don't think..." She trails off, watching as one of his darts fly to the board. Triple 20's. "Why would Mary think she needed to do that?"

"David doesn't like to admit that he needs anything." He says it with an easy smile, as if his mind is far away, in another land, in another time. "He's proud. And he doesn't like to put anyone out, doesn't want someone to be uncomfortable around him. Would you believe he hates fish? Which we didn't know, for a _long _time. And yet, he kept eating it at our parties, because he didn't want to be rude. He just...he just kept doing it." He laughs at the anecdote quietly, and Emma finds herself with a smile on her face. He glances at his friend once more, then back at his Sheriff with a new sense of seriousness that unnerves her.

"You're a grown woman, Emma, who just found out her parents are her age. And they want to be a part of your life, but how do you do that? You will never just be their good friend, not to them." He eyes his friend for a second to make sure he's occupied, then leans in towards Emma. "I will always be grateful for what you did, for Ella and Alexandra. I've wanted to speak with you a bit more about that, to thank you again. But I will also always be grateful-and please, do not begrudge me this-that is was not her who Gold chose to play the pawn in this dangerous game. I have no idea what his plans were for our daughter...I think that you were always the one he wanted for this...but I get to watch her grow up. David has missed that now. And I don't know how much you know your dad," She winces at his choice of words. "But it kills him a little. So that's why I'm telling you this." He nods at his friend, then smiles back at her. "Humor him."

Emma has frozen at this point, the vague feeling of vertigo having taken over. She barely even knows this guy, but he's playing the part of sage Uncle, giving her unsolicited advice about her parents. Weird is a completely different reality anymore.

She still looks past him at her Deputy, who is laughing with another cannery worker as he goes to retrieve his darts from the board. He must catch her out of the corner of his eye though, because he double takes, in the middle of the laugh, and just looks at her for a second, a genuine, joyous expression on his face. And she realizes, well fuck it all if this guy isn't right.

So she decides right then; she's gonna let him teach her how to throw some darts.

* * *

She stands at the red tape in front of an open board as they've lost the previous game and are waiting once more for their turn with the cannery workers. Now's as good a time as any, she supposes, and when she admits that she's changed her mind, that she _obviously_ needs help, he laughs with her and leads her to the boards at the end of the wall. His enthusiasm makes her nervous. _God,_ she thinks, _I don't want to disappoint him._

"So, who was it? That tried to teach you before?" He looks almost scared for her answer, and she wonders if he's imagining other father figures and ex-boyfriends who held the place he should have had in her life. She hesitates; she's not sure she wants to tell him, this small treasured memory that she almost wants to keep for herself, but she knows aversion would hurt him. She's almost happy she gets to share that it's someone from the town, even though she doesn't realize that they knew each other.

"Graham." She offers softly, squaring her two feet at the line 6 feet in front of the board. She doesn't look behind her as she brings her arm up and prepares to fire at the board. The darts land nowhere close. She turns around with an exasperated noise but it dies in her throat at his expression.

It's curious, it seems, as if he's trying to figure it out, but it quickly changes as he sees her. It's like he's figuring out this puzzle, piece by piece and then he sighs deeply, head drooping to look at the ground. "The Huntsman."

_Huntsman._ She supposes that makes sense too. _Why the hell not?_ She offers a weak smile. "Yeah. That's who Henry thought he was. I just called him Sheriff."

He watches her for a moment before walking over to pick up the darts on the floor. She can feel Sean a few boards down watching them. When David walks back to her at the line, he thrusts them at her, feather's first, and then moves to stand behind her. He grabs at her arm, and positions it different, so it feels a little unnatural, but directs the darts movement. This time when she releases the dart, it sails to the board; while it doesn't hit an actual score, it does stick in the black outer circle beyond that. She lets out a shocked gasp of air, and she whirls to him to see him grinning.

"I hit it!"

David smiles with his lips together, satisfied at her joy. His tone grows serious as he speaks again, the smile understanding and soft. "Graham would be proud." His eye twinkle with a grief she can't understand.

_He knows,_ she realizes with a sinking feeling. And he approves.

It means more to her than she would've expected.

"Thank you for that." She pauses for a second, wanting him to know she's genuine. She doesn't want to dwell on the sadness, though; she wants to have fun with him, with her _dad_. A wicked grin takes over. "You better watch out though. A few weeks of practice, I'll be taking all of you down."

"Oh, is that right?" He asks, amused, and he squares off himself, tossing the remaining two darts at the board. Both sail smoothly, embedding themselves close to the center of it. She scowls at him; her indignation grows as he winks at her. She rolls her eyes with a scoff.

"Show off."

When they leave that night, she's a bit more tipsy than she has intended to become. David, seeing this as she stands up a little more relaxed than usual (at least she wasn't stumbling), has stuck mostly to soda, ushering her to the passenger side when they decide it's time to head home. It isn't late by any means; but they have been at the restaurant for most of the night and they have work in the morning. The cannery workers bid them goodbye and challenge them to a rematch next week; Emma enthusiastically agrees.

"I like that Mary Margaret does her homework on Wednesdays." She tells him lazily, head resting back on the seat as he turns out of the parking lot. "This was a lot of fun."

He offers a side grin. "You sound surprised. I'm wounded."

"No, I'm not!." She defends seriously, and he realizes in the haze of alcohol she's missed his light touch of sarcasm. "No, David, this really is a lot of fun. I really like hanging out with you." Her gaze finds his as she grabs his upper arm with a sense of urgency. "We should hang out more together. I want to."

The indirect request sends a warm feeling blooming through his chest. He can't pinpoint if its the way she's said it-with blue round eyes and a touch of childish innocence-or if it's just her asking to spend more time with him. He knows she's a little drunk but he still smiles this time, full on and sincere.

"Emma, I would like nothing more."

She fills the silence as they make the short trip home with explanations of exactly what she was doing wrong and how she is going to fix it, how Thomas and his friend are going to lose next time, how they should try to play pool too, cause she's _much_ better at pool. When they get back to the apartment, he knows she can walk just fine-she's not had _that_ much-but he still walks behind her very precariously, just in case.

They hit the landing, and she has enough presence of mind to try to stay quiet. It's almost 10, and Henry's already gone to bed for the school night; the curtain was pulled around where he and Mary are holed up, but the lamp at the side of the bed is still on and he knows his wife is just waiting to make sure they're home alright. Emma is kicking off her shoes, suddenly seeming very tired.

"G'night." He says to her and she waves, tiredly. He has taken her jacket from her and he turns to hang them on the coat rack by the door. As he turns to the side, though, he's surprised and almost knocked over as she throws her arms around his midsection. He doesn't know if it's the few beers she had, or something else, but he does know, he cannot actually speak because he's afraid of what may come out.

"G'night." She replies. "Thanks for showing me how to play."

He cannot help it. He presses a kiss to her head and returns to the hug with his free arm. "Anytime, Em. Sleep tight. You need any water or anything?"

She shakes her head and heads up the stairs without a look back. He doesn't even realize until he walks toward the room he shares with Snow that she's been listening to the conversation, a glowing look on her face at his dazed expression. "So I take it the Wednesday nights are going well?"

He chuckles as he takes his wife in his arms when he falls to the bed. This has been her idea all along, he realizes, and he nestles his nose against her neck, breathing in softly as he places a kiss in the curve of her shoulder. A plot to get he and Emma alone, together.

"You're sneaky." He whispers, pull her closer and away from her papers. She laughs softly, wanting to keep quiet as not to wake the children. She places a kiss on his lips.

"And you love me for it."

Yes. Yes, he does.


End file.
